


Covert Operations

by inkykeys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Fake Marriage, Reader-Insert, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkykeys/pseuds/inkykeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader has to learn to walk in high heels for an upcoming mission. To her initial dismay she is paired up with her not-so-secret crush Pietro Maximoff. But when you are to be fake married, anything is possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stilettos

**Author's Note:**

> Reader can't walk in high heels so Natasha has to teach her. (There's no Pietro in this first chapter since it's mostly exposition.)

You hated wearing high heels. One would think, that as a trained SHIELD agent, you would be able to do more than just hobble about like a grandma on ice skates, but you couldn’t. And you hated it. Most of the time not being able to walk in heels wasn’t an issue. You could wear flats or boots with just about every trendy outfit, and it’s not like you wore heels when you trained or went on missions. Most of the time.

“What do you mean I have to wear stilettos?” you all but shrieked at Natasha.

“It’s a black-tie event, Y/N, you can’t go in flats.” She replied matter-of-factly.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “why can’t you do it instead?”

“Broke my ankle, remember? They want me to do as little as possible so it can heal faster.”

“But if it’s in a month, won’t you be better by then?”

She shook her head. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, but that’s beside the point. This mission is yours. It’s your chance to show what you can do, to prove that you’re a part of this team, not just an errand girl.”

She had a point. Up until now you had been assigned to the Avengers as a sort of jack-of-all-trades. Mostly just setting up training equipment and lugging things around the facility. Occasionally, you got to go as back-up on a mission, or be a diversion for someone else’s attack. Never since joining the team did you have a mission of your own.

“Alright, when do we get started?”

Nat smiled, “Right now, if you’d like.”

You followed Natasha down the hall, as you walked she continued to brief you on the mission. “You’ll be attending a gala for the discovery of a lost painting…”

“They have parties for that?” you asked.

“Sometimes, depending on who found it and who is sponsoring the party. In this case it’s a wealthy banker, Mr. Harvey Morrison, and a famous art gallery. Now your mission is to get into the event, which is being held at Morrison’s home in upstate New York, and steal blueprints for a new HYDRA security system that his people have been working on.”

“The details are in here.” She finished, handing you a manila file. “Now, heels.” She opened the door to a mostly empty training room. “I’ll have you start with a pair of low heels, so you can get used to the feel of it before you break your neck in some strappy stilettos.” She grabbed a pair of black heels, the style a tap dancer or swing choir dancer would wear.

“Okaaay, these don’t look too hard.” You said to yourself, walking over to the table and chairs set up on the other side of the large room. You sat yourself on one of the chairs and began taking your slippers off. “I don’t have to wear socks with these, right?” Natasha shook her head, and you went back to slipping the new shoes on.

You stood up, your weight settling towards your toes. You took a tentative step towards Natasha, managing to keep your wobbling to a minimum. You took another, keeping your eyes glued to your feet.

“You know, it’s easier to walk when you aren’t staring at the ground.” You snapped your head up to look at Natasha, who was staring at you.

“Well, I…” you faltered.

“If you look forward when you walk you give off an air of confidence.”

“I know that.”

“Well, if you stare at your feet you doubt yourself. Resisting the temptation to look down will help you convince yourself that you can do this.”

“Alright,” you slowly finished the distance between you and Romanoff, keeping your eyes locked on her.

“See,” she said as you stopped in front of her, “that wasn’t so bad.”

“No, I guess it wasn’t.”

“Okay, now walk around the room. If you can, do it at your normal walking speed.” You did as she instructed, going slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed until you were up to your natural casual pace.

“Y/N, you’re still looking at your feet.”

“Dammit! I knew it couldn’t have been that easy!”


	2. Not So Covert Affections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of training reader runs into her crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was no relationship in the last chapter because it was just training, but there’s the beginnings of a relationship in this chapter.

Natasha had you hobble about at various speeds for the next hour or so, constantly reminding you not to stare at your feet. You felt useless. Honestly, it shouldn’t have been as hard as it was- it was just walking! But you could barely do it.

You plodded back towards your room, the straps of the heels twirled in your hand. You took a detour into the kitchen looking to eat away your failure. As you walked into the kitchen you noticed a butt wiggling as its owner rummaged the fridge. You set your new shoes on the counter, the clack of the heels causing the fridge-rummager to bang their head on the top of the fridge. You couldn’t help but giggle as a bottle of ranch and a stick of butter tumbled onto the floor.

At your laugh, the fridge-rummager finally lifted their head. Although you should have known from the tacky shoes, you were now blatantly aware that you were sharing the kitchen with Pietro Maximoff. “Hey Y/N,” he said, bending to pick up the dropped food. “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to yesterday’s take-out, would you?”

“Pietro,” you said, trying not to stare, “you ate all of yesterday’s take-out.”

“Did I?” He was standing again, but you still struggled to behave as if he wasn’t the best part of your day.

“Yeah. Remember? Clint cracked some joke about spending the nation’s budget feeding you, and you looked up and had this little noodle on your face.” A laugh bubbled up at the memory of Pietro trying to shoot daggers at Clint from across the room, but failing because of the noodle hanging off his chin.

“Oh, yeah.” he said, chuckling. “I did eat it all.” Shaking your head, you smiled up at him.

You hated the way he made you feel. It made everything so much harder. Yeah, you felt insignificant on the team, but you felt it the most when you spent time with him. He was so powerful, his speed and endurance making him stand out, even on a team like the Avengers. He was cocky, which made everyone want to strangle him, but he was sweet. The way he cared for his sister, and anyone else in need. And he was so damn handsome. It was enough to make you want to bash your head against the refrigerator door he was still holding open.

“Are you gonna close the fridge? I need to get my ice cream.”

“Oh right.” He said slamming the door. The next thing you knew he was handing you a pint of your favorite flavor.

“How’d you know this one was mine?”

“I’ve seen you eat out of it before,” You felt your face betray you as it grew warm, “Also, your name is on the lid.”

“Oh, right.” Your blush stilled. “Duh.”

After that, you had no clue which direction to take the conversation. Sure you were harboring a crush on the speedster, but you hadn’t actually spent much time with him. It was difficult not to act like an idiot whenever you were around him, so you kept your distance. As a result, the two of you didn’t know each other all that well. You felt the air became thick with an uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” he said awkwardly, “I’m going to find something to eat then, okay?” before running off.

“Stupid,” you muttered to yourself. The feelings of a wasted opportunity washing over you. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you gently pounded your head against the fridge. “No ‘So what’s new with you?’. No ‘Hey, wanna eat this with me?’. No way of even hinting?!” You stopped your bashing and rested your head against the cool door. “Why HIM?”

You heard someone clear their throat from the direction of the doorway. A hot blush covered your cheeks as you whipped your head around as fast as you could, almost dropping your ice cream in the process. Pietro stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand, a blush also coloring his cheeks.

“Please tell me you didn’t hear that.”

“Just the last bit. It was about me, no?”

“Shit.” You felt your knees begin to wobble. Just like they had that morning, only now, it had nothing to do with high heels.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.” He said slowly.

“Umm…” Your throat felt dry, and you had to lick your lips before you could continue. “Yeah, yeah it was. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Y/N? It’s not your fault you’ve fallen madly in love with me.” He winked, his cockiness back in full.

You stormed off past him in the direction of your room. You couldn’t be there any longer. You were absolutely mortified both by the thought of him knowing how you felt about him, and how he reacted like an asshole.

“Wait, wait Y/N!” he said gently grabbing your arm, “I’m sorry, I am. I didn’t know how to react.”

“So you had to be an ass about it?”

“Well, I don’t know.” he said, shaking his head. “It’s just, kind of, my default. I don’t know how to take that news, Y/N, I mean, it’s not like we really know each other.” He let go of your arm, and despite yourself, you wished he’d kept it there.

You sighed. “Yeah. We really don’t. I know it’s stupid, it’s just,” you sighed again, “there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Maybe if we spent time together, you’d grow to hate me?” He asked, shaking the pizza box that he was still holding. “You have the ice cream, I have the pizza. We could have one of those, what is it? Sleepovers?”

The thought of you and Pietro in oversized pajamas eating ice cream and hitting each other with pillows like little girls made you laugh. “What?” He asked, puzzled.

“I think you mean ‘movie night’. ‘Sleepover’ does involve those things, but in a sort of different environment.”

“Alright then, we’ll have a movie night. And I promise, by the end of it, I will either be madly in love with you, or you will hate my guts.”

“That sounds like a wonderful offer, Pietro, but I’m gonna have to decline. I’ve had kind of a crappy day, and I think what I need most is this pint of ice cream and some alone time.”

He nodded. “Goodnight then.” His sincerity was a comfort, a contrast to the cocky outburst that had made you so angry. It was nice to know that he was okay with your crush, and that he was willing to explore a friendship between the two of you. It made you almost not want to bash your head in, almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does so much of my writing have to do with food?


	3. One Step Ahead of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is paired off with Pietro for her undercover mission and they have to learn to dance.

It had been just over a week since you received your mission, and you were at least a thousand times better at walking in heels. Natasha had you do about a thousand things while wearing the damned things for hours every day at training. Your feet had cramped and you had grumbled and cursed a thousand times, but you had done it.

You walked confidently down the hall towards the training room wearing the last pair of heels Natasha had given you. They weren’t stilettos, but they were high by your standards. Which isn’t saying much, but they were the highest yet. You looked down at yourself and stifled a giggle. You were dressed in your usual all-black workout clothes, with the exception of bright pink pumps.

Still smiling, you walked into the room and noticed Natasha reading out of a file. “So Nat, you finally healed enough for a mission?”

She smiled at you, “Not quite. This one’s for you.” she said, handing the file to you.

“But I’ve already got a mission- this one.” You lifted your foot, and the pink shoe on it, towards Natasha’s face. “I can’t do two at a time.”

“No, silly,” she said, pushing your foot away. “Your current mission’s false identity has been compromised, so the new details are in there.”

“Oh.” You opened the file. The gist of the mission remained the same: get in, go fairly unnoticed, steal the blueprints and get out. “So I’m not the enthusiastic art student anymore… now I’m… a NEWLYWED?!”

“Yeah, I…”

“Natasha, what happened to this being my mission? my chance to prove myself to the team? Now they’ll just pair me up with someone and give them all the praise when the mission’s a success!”

She sighed. “I can’t guarantee that won’t happen, but this is still the opportunity it was before. In fact it might be a better one, seeing as how it will show how well you can put up with your ‘husband.’”

“Why? Who’s my…” Before you could finish a strong breeze blew across your face.

“You called?” Pietro Maximoff stood off to your side, leaning against the mirrored wall, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction.

“Seriously?!” you all-but-shouted towards the speedster. You had done your best to avoid him since your accidental romantic confession. You had been too embarrassed to take him up on his offer for the two of you to get to know each other.

“He was the only one young enough to convincingly play your husband.” Natasha said, dragging your attention back to her.

“What? I could have been convincingly married to Clint!”

“You’re supposed to be a lovestruck newlywed out to explore the world, not a trophy wife.” You felt your face go red at “lovestruck.”

“Ugghh,” you ran your hands down your face. “Has Pietro even been on an undercover mission before?”

“Well-”

“No.” Natasha said, cutting him off. “And that’s why he’s another reason why he’s getting paired with you. He needs to be able to blend in, to pull off an undercover mission, and that’s what you’re best at.”

You smiled. She was right, you were good at espionage. It was the main reason you were drafted to the team. Up till now you hadn’t gotten a chance to prove it.

“Wait, Nat- am I training Pietro for the mission, or are you?”

“I am. You don’t have the clearance to formally train him. The two of you should still practice outside together outside of official training though.”

“Alright, let’s get started then, okay?” Pietro said impatiently. Standing up from where he was casually leaning against the wall and walking over to you.

“What’s the rush? Got someplace you need to be?” You asked the speedster.

“Not particularly. I just don’t want to stand around all day. And besides,” he said, grinning devilishly, “I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“Oh screw you!” You said, smacking him in the arm.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the two of you. “Alright lovebirds, simmer down. We’ve got work to do. Y/N, you seem to be getting around in those pretty good.” She said, nodding her head towards your feet. “I think it’s about time we see how well you can dance in them.”

You were completely uncertain of whether or not you could dance in heels. Your looked up to gauge Pietro’s reaction, a small frown graced his features. “Oh God,” you realized. “He has no idea how to dance.”

“Pietro, do you know how to dance?”

“Pfft, of course I do!” He scoffed, “What, you think I don’t know anything?”

“Well it’s not like you’ll have to do any specific dances,” Natasha stated, “just your average step-touch.”

“And you act like I can’t do that!”

“That’s what we’re going to see.” She countered before walking over to the laptop that had been sitting on the corner table. She tapped the keyboard and a slow classical piece came on. At the cue, you grabbed Pietro’s hand and spun so you were pressed against his chest. After an awkward beat, you moved his dangling hand up to your waist. He seemed to get the hint after that and took a tentative step forward.

“Confidence, Pietro. You’re supposed to lead.” You whispered into his ear.

“I know that.” He whispered back, his lips brushing your ear and sending a shivers racing down your back. He then proceeded to ruin your moment by taking a jerky step back and pulling you along, causing you to trip in your heels and fall forward.

“Okay, stop.” Natasha said, tapping the keyboard to stop the music. “Pietro, you’re supposed to be a confident newlywed. The two of you are supposed to give off the vibe of a couple that will probably leave early to have sex.”

“Wait, why are we giving off the vibe of two people eager to have sex?” You asked, probably too quickly. Your skin burned at all the places that were still touching Pietro.

“So that way when you do leave early it won’t raise suspicion.”

“Makes sense.” You heard Pietro say.

“...Yeah.”

“So Pietro, turn on that Sovokian charm! Stop acting like you’re only dancing with this girl because your mom made you be nice to her at prom.”

“Alright.” He said, pulling you closer. He lifted both your arms so that they rested on his shoulders and placed his hands low on your hips. You felt your body begin to warm in an all-over blush. He leaned his head and whispered in your ear: “So it’s just forward and backwards steps, yes?”

“Yes,” you whispered back, “In time with the music. And try to sway. Remember you’re leading, so everything you do, I do.”

“Got it.” The two of you danced and swayed to the music. What the two of you lacked in skill you made up for in believability. While his steps were always just ahead of the beat, he still skimmed his hands tenderly over your back every time you turned. You carded your fingers through his hair and tried your best not to make it too obvious how much you were enjoying this.

The song ended and Pietro let go of you. You both turned to face Natasha, where she was sitting with her bad ankle up. “Wow, Pietro, it seems you really do know what you’re doing. All you needed was a little push.”

“Told you.” You looked at Natasha. The two of you locked eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. Pietro hadn’t fooled either of you. Maybe he had danced well, but he sure as hell hadn’t danced before. That was fairly obvious.


	4. You May Now Kiss the Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the title is any indication, you know what’s in store as reader and Pietro have to go over some “details” for their mission together.

A small smile played across your lips as you walked slowly back to your room after training with Nat and Pietro. You had on, by far, the most impossibly tall pair of stilettos. Natasha had graduated you up to this pair after your diligence with the last. You were still fairly certain that you were going to break your neck, but you weren’t about to tell Natasha that, not with Pietro there.

The memory of your dance with the speedster, the way it felt pressed against him, the soft tickle of his breath on your neck, entered your mind. It had barely been an hour since the two of you danced and you already missed it. The rest of the training session had mostly been on conversation topics and etiquette; things that were important for the mission, yes, but didn’t require any contact. Pietro had stayed behind with Natasha to further discuss techniques for espionage and blending in, while you, already well versed in that field, had gotten out early.

You entered your room and immediately went over to your speakers, adjusting the volume as music began to pour out. It started out fairly low, with the music playing quietly in the background. But as you let your hair down, your humming seemed to drown it out. You turned the volume up, and you soon found yourself mouthing the words into the mirror as you brushed your hair. Finally you gave in, turning the music up yet again and signing into your hairbrush. The combination of the overly loud song and the events of the day had you dancing around, singing both the words and the instrumentals.

You whipped your head around to sing the chorus when you noticed Pietro standing in your room. His knock at the door had gotten drowned out by the events inside the room. Upon seeing him, you immediately dropped your hairbrush and quickly shuffled over to pause your music. “I uhh…”

“Was dancing.”

“No!” You snapped, “I was uhm, practicing fighting choreography!”

“No,” he said, a smile slowly spreading across his face, “you were dancing.”

“I, uh, yeah…” You dropped your eyes to the brush in your hand and felt your face go red. You cleared your throat before forcing yourself to look up at Pietro. “Did you need something? Or were you just gonna barge in to see what I was doing?”

“Well I did knock.” He said defensively before continuing. “I wanted to go over some things with you, for the mission.”

“Oh, okay. Like what?”

“Is it okay if we sit?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” You sat down on your bed. Pulling up your pillow to hold in your lap, you leaned against the headboard and faced Pietro where he sat at the foot of the bed. The spiky heels of your shoes poked him in the thigh. “So the mission?”

“Natasha kept talking about blending in and not leaving a lasting impression. But she also talked about making sure we were believable.”

“Yeah, those things are both important.”

“And I think I will be able to do the blending in. Natasha says I’m not as bad as she thought I would be.” You laughed at this. Pietro’s cocky behavior often lead him to be the center of attention and you could see why Natasha would judge him to have a hard time suppressing it. “What’s so funny?”

“Pietro Maximoff: Undercover Operative just doesn’t seem right.”

“That’s because Pietro Maximoff: Fastest Man Alive sounds so much cooler.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” he said smiling. “And I wanted to ask you, as I was going to say before you started laughing,” You smiled at the playful anger in his voice. “if you would help me with the believability part of the mission.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Believability is on both of us. We would have had to practice together on it anyway.”

“Great.” He looked at you expectantly as you sat there, waiting for him to continue.

The realization hit you. “Oh! You meant right now.” He nodded. “I guess right now is fine. What do you want to know?”

“Anything. You’re the super-spy.”

“Natasha’s the super-spy, I’m just a spy. And you gotta give me something to work with, just ‘I’m not sure what to do’ isn’t enough.”

“Well, I don’t know how I’m going to remember all the things I have to know. All the things that ‘sell the part’.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, I can quiz you on it if you need me to.” You hadn’t read through the updated mission information yet, but you knew the last one by heart. Besides, you always liked the somewhat oddball stuff SHIELD would throw in for alias details.

“Like a written test?”

“If you want.” You laughed, “but I was thinking more like shouting things at you when you speed pass in the hall, or asking you at practice.” He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Do you know what we’re going to wear? I know you have to wear those high heel shoes, but what about me? I’ve never… I don’t know if there’s rules to formal clothes.” The thought dawned on you that Pietro probably hadn’t worn anything formal since before his parents died, if ever. Typically, you saw him in his trademark track suit or some other sort of sporty wear. Even when he dressed up it wasn’t much more than a pair of nice jeans and a hoodie.

“Well, I think Natasha’s going to hook us up on the clothes end. So if you have any questions, you can ask one of us when we get them. And anyway, I’m still not entirely sure what I’m wearing. Can’t wait to see what’s in store.”

“Alright.” He said before continuing. “What about you and me?”

“What about you and me?”

“We have to be, you know, married. It might be… weird.”

“Why?” Your face instantly grew red. “Because I like you? Because that’s not going to be a problem if you don’t make it one.”

He chuckled softly, “I was hoping you still did actually. It would have been more weird if you had gotten over me. Girls can’t stand you once they have gotten over you.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. But we’re working together as a team, I would have had to get over it.”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that.” He smiled, standing up. “Now that is out of the way, I think I will be going.”

You swung your legs over the side of the bed as you went to show him out. Forgetting that you were still wearing high heels, you stepped too fast and went careening sideways. A thousand curse words flew through your head, and you weren’t sure how many, if any, left your lips.

In an instant you were on your feet again. You were briefly confused as to how in the world you had managed to regain balance and not make a complete fool of yourself before you felt a pair of arms around your waist. You spun around, your face flaming, to see Pietro smiling. “You didn’t see that coming?”

You weren’t even annoyed by his catchphrase as you were still catching your breath. “No actually, and I’m really glad you caught me. I don’t know what I would’ve broke if you hadn’t.” His arms were still loosely wrapped around you, and with your heels you were at eye level with him. With your face close to his you could see every detail: his bright blue eyes and their thick lashes, the curve at the end of his nose, and the curve that was his mouth, pulled up into a self-confident grin.

“You know, this reminds me of another concern I had.”

“What?”

“As husband and wife, we will probably have to kiss.” Your eyes immediately flicked to watch his mouth. You felt his arms tighten slightly around your waist; to the point where you could leave if you wanted, but he was still holding you closer.

“Are you saying we should kiss right now as practice?” Your skin tingled as the words left your mouth. You could feel the familiar ache begin on your lips, the one that begged to be kissed away.

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Uh, yeah, sure!” You said, with hopefully not too much enthusiasm.

You closed your eyes as you felt him move in. His lips were soft against your own, a gentle, uncertain pressure. You kissed back, running your tongue over his bottom lip. Accepting the invitation, he opened his mouth to yours. His hands roamed up your back to cradle your head as together you deepened the kiss.

You were lost. Kissing Pietro felt like a daydream. It was often a daydream, you hated to admit. Your knees felt weak, and you were afraid they’d give out and you’d fall, again. But before you had another chance to humiliate yourself, Pietro broke away. His eyes were hard to read, but the small smile that played on his lips seemed to be a good sign.

“I should be going.” He said, muttering something in his native language, before kissing you once more. A quick, gentle caress. “Goodnight.” He sped off, shutting the door as he left.

You walked back towards your bed in a drunken daze. You barely managed to kick off your heels before falling into bed. Lying face-up, you stared at your ceiling. What you knew was probably a stupid grin was plastered to your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to take it off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! My first kiss scene in, like, literally forever. I hope you liked it!


	5. All Dolled Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Pietro get suited up for their mission as well as go over their feelings about the events of the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible warnings for weapons: they are never used, only mentioned.

You woke up the next morning to the shrill beeps of your alarm. The unrelenting noise pulled you out of the pleasant sleep you’d been having. You had fallen asleep just after Pietro left your room and woke up with his name on your lips. You silenced the alarm and squinted your eyes to minimize the amount of light seeping in. You were giving your room it’s usual morning glance when you noticed a white bag hanging on your door. It was long, the type of bag used to protect dresses and coats, and it wasn’t there the night before.

You got up and cautiously padded over to it. A yellow Post-It note was stuck to it. “Try this.” was written in clipped letters and signed with an hourglass. You gingerly grabbed the bag that Natasha had left you and laid it out across your bed. Pulling the bag off, you slowly revealed a black evening gown. The cut was simple: a floor-length, form-fitting, v-neck. The shoulder straps were a dark gold that tapered down to delicate golden accents throughout the dress.

Quickly you slipped out of the clothes you’d slept in and changed into the dress. As you stepped towards the mirror, you noticed the slit up the left leg. Ending mid-thigh, the part in the black was layered over gold sheer. You turned to admire yourself in the mirror. The overwhelming urge to spin in front of the mirror took you. Despite knowing full well that the dress wouldn’t flare out, you did a twirl. As you spun, the tiny golden threads caught the light that filtered through the curtains and shimmered. They radiated delicate beauty, and despite your just-rolled-out-of-bed hair and smeared mascara you felt positively gorgeous.

You brushed your hair and grabbed a change of clothes before strapping on the heels you had almost broken your neck in the night before. As you walked down to meet Natasha you kept your pace slow and your stride short. The fear of catching your heel on the back of the dress and falling, or worse, ripping it, was in the forefront of your mind.

When you finally made it to the training room, you found Nat impatiently fiddling with her pistol. “What took you so long?” she said, looking at you while she quickly reassembled the weapon.

“It was kinda hard zipping it up by myself.” You admitted gesturing to the gown. “Well, sort of, but I also walked slowly.”

“The zipper should be fine, you can get help putting it on, and you shouldn’t have to take it off anytime on your mission. But try to be on time next time.”

You nodded. “So, this is what I’m wearing for the mission?” you said, changing the topic.

“More than likely. I found it in the back of a closet when I was looking for clothes for your mission. It’s appropriate for the gala and seemed to be your size.” She gave you a once-over, looking at the dress more technically than awe-struck. “I’m glad it fits.” She slipped her gun into its holster at her hip as she stood up from her chair. “We should be able to fit enough weapons under there that you’ll be fine if the mission goes awry.”

“Which it won’t.” You said confidently.

“That’s what we hope. And while I’m sure that you alone would be more than capable of handling yourself, we never know with your partner.”

“Speaking of Pietro, is he going to be here today?”

“He’s supposed to join us in about a half an hour. Which gives us enough time to get you suited up.” Natasha led you into a smaller room just behind the one you were in. She walked slowly, still hindered by the bulky, black boot keeping her ankle immobile. The room was bare, save the three large, metal cabinets and a small table in the corner.

Natasha grabbed a key from her belt and set about unlocking the cases. They each held small weapons meant to be concealed under the folds of a dress, or held in pockets and bags. Nat grabbed weapons and holsters seemingly at random, some she would hold up to you and shake her head, others she would just place on the table without a second thought. Once she had a decently large pile of weapons and sheaths gathered she turned and instructed you to put them on.

“Nat, there’s no way I’m getting all those under this dress.” You said incredulously.

She smiled, “No, not convincingly. But some of those are for Pietro, so you’re fine.” She held up a slim knife held in a band of black lace. “This one’s for you though.”

“Jeez Nat, black lace? Isn’t that a little too sexy?”

“Well hopefully no one will see it, and if they do, black lace will give them exactly the idea you had.”

“I guess you have a point.” You said as you shifted your weight onto your right foot to slip the band over your left.

“I always do.” She replied as she reached out a hand to help steady you. You pulled the lace up to just before the dress split. It held snuggly: to the point where it probably wouldn’t slip down, but it wasn’t cutting off circulation. Natasha removed her hand and gestured for you to turn. The knife rested against the outside of your thigh, but even as you moved, you didn’t feel it press into you. “This one will work. It doesn’t mar your silhouette and I know those knives hold up despite their size.”

“Alright, what next?”

You and Nat proceeded to hide a small gun and an extra round of bullets around your right calf, as well as two tiny capsules in the heels of your shoes. “Really, explosives? I thought this mission was minimal casualties.”

“These release a sleeping gas. You can either break off the heel or hit them really hard to set them off. Real explosives would be insanely dangerous, especially given that you’ve just recently learned how to walk in those.”

You gave a half-hearted laugh as you followed her back out of the weapons room. Pietro was waiting, haphazardly adjusting parts of the suit he was wearing. For someone who had never worn a three-piece, he had managed to put it on fairly well. Granted his shirt wasn’t tucked in and the tie was just wrapped around his neck like a scarf, but it’s not like he had much experience.

You laughed again, but it was more like the choked-off laugh of someone who’s been caught off guard. Pietro looked up from his fiddling, his mouth about to ask something, but it never had the chance. His eyes flicked to you and his mouth fell into a small “O”. You immediately looked down self-consciously.

“I uhh…” he snapped his mouth shut. “What I mean to say is, you look very nice. Very… beautiful.” You turned away to hide the smile that was forcing its way center stage even as you felt your traitorous face flame.

“Thanks. Natasha picked it out.”

“Yeah, she picked mine too. Do you think you could help me with it?”

“Sure.” You smiled as you crossed over to where he was standing. “Well first you gotta tuck your shirt in.”

“Right,” he shook his head, “Don’t know how I forgot that.”

“Well I’m going to guess you were in a hurry.”

He laughed. “Good guess.” He quickly tucked the shirt in and smoothed the vest down over it. “Can you help me with this?” he said, holding up the tie. It was a navy blue crossed with gold plaid.

“To bring out his eyes and match my dress. Damn, Natasha’s thought of it all.” You shook your head. “No actually, I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

“I can.” Natasha chimed it. She set the weapons from the back down on the chair she had been sitting in earlier and slowly crossed between the two of you. In strangely short amount of time, she had tied an elaborate knot. “Learned that from Stark.”

“Why?” Pietro asked.

Natasha shook her head. “Long story and now’s not the time.” She turned back towards the chair, “What we are going to do now is get you suited up-”

“There’s more?!”

She ignored Pietro’s worried outburst and turned around twirling two guns. “-with these.”

Soon, a small pistol was strapped to Pietro’s right calf, another hidden in his coat, and his own sleeping-gas capsules were hidden under the gold handkerchief in his chest pocket. Natasha had fixed him up while she’d suited him up, and you were more than grateful. Pietro dressed up was both shocking and alluring, as well as completely disarming.

The kiss the night before had left you even more flooded with emotion for your crush. Questions danced on the tip of your tongue, and you wanted, more than anything, to know how he felt. Did he enjoy it? did he think about it as he drifted off to sleep? did he wake up with your name on his lips the way you had his? and what had he said before he kissed you goodnight?

“Alright, let me see the two of you together.” Natasha said, breaking you out of your daze.

You went to stand next to Pietro, sliding your arm around his waist as you faced Natasha. He lifted his arm slowly to drape around your shoulders, and you leaned into the touch.

“I think you’re good to go.” Natasha said, smiling. “That’s all I had planned for the day, so you can change out of that and do whatever it is you do in your free time.”

Before slipping out of Pietro’s grasp, you asked him to meet you in the kitchen once he’d changed back into his normal clothes.

“Sure, but should I be worried?”

“Why would you be?”

“Most of the time I get asked to meet with someone it is because I have done something wrong.”

“I’m not scolding you, I just wanted to, go over some… things with you.”

“Okay, I can be there.”

You smiled and left back towards your room. Once there, you slipped your shoes and weapons off, being extra careful with the heels. As you stretched to unzip the dress, you realized you still needed to get jewelry to wear. You carefully slid the bag back over the gown and hung it back on your door. There wasn’t enough room in your closet to guarantee it not getting wrinkled.

You redressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and your SHIELD issue, black pullover. Your feet were still slightly sore from the stilettos, so you slipped a pair of fuzzy socks on before padding down to the kitchen.

Pietro was waiting for you, as expected, and leaning against the center island as he waited for the microwave. You lifted yourself onto the stool closest to him.

“So, I was wondering…” you started. Pietro dragged his eyes away from the microwave.

“Don’t worry, it still has a few minutes.”

You cleared your throat before continuing. “...about last night.”

“You mean the kiss.”

“Yeah. Did you like, I mean, was it okay? Because I liked it, and I was just wondering if you did too.”

“Y/N, it was all I could think about last night. This morning, I thought I would be alright. But then I saw you in that dress, and kissing you was the only thing on my mind.”

A smile stretched across your face. “Glad I’m not the only one. But last night, before you left, you said something in your native language.”

He shook his head. “I said ‘Don’t do this again.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed. “I always fall in love too quickly, even before I had my speed. Wanda, she teases and scolds me, tells me I need to be sure. And when I kissed you, I felt it again, that feeling in my chest.” He took your hand in both of his. “But this time, I have to be sure . I don’t want to fall for someone else and leave you broken… hearted, that is it, brokenhearted. I have to go slowly this time, and make sure I do love you. I promised Wanda, and myself, and you too. This promise is also for you.”

You leaned over the counter to kiss his cheek, his stubble tickling your lips. “I appreciate it.” You said softly as you sat back down.

The microwave dinged and Pietro went to grab its contents. A large bowl of popcorn was set in front of you. “Want some?” he asked, smiling.

“Maybe later. But we can still sit here and hang out.”

“That sounds good.”

As you sat across from the speedster, it was hard to keep from staring. His easygoing stance and seemingly effortless comfort despite the conversation before were both things you envied. His confession had left you reeling, drowning in your feelings. You tried to hide it as you shared the bowl of popcorn and laughed along at the stories he told, swapping some of your own, but you couldn’t shake the desire to lean across the counter again, and kiss him till you died of bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Why do all my stories have to do with food?) I spent FOREVER writing this chapter (when I originally wrote it), and honestly I'm still not too sure how I feel about it. Also I hope you like the dress! If not, just make up your own, I don't mind.
> 
> Stay tuned because I might edit this chapter a bit before posting the rest.


	6. Not Such a Bad-Hair-Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader won't run the risk of Pietro being recognized on their mission so she dyes his hair. Pouting and flirting ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For background on Pietro's hair, [read my headcanons](http://inkstainedkeyboard.tumblr.com/post/134618650067/pietros-hair-headcanons).

Pietro whined like a toddler. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.” You said, turning over the box of hair dye in your hands. “You’re too recognizable with white hair.”

“Couldn’t I just cut it, or shave?”

“If you want to do those things, go ahead, but you cannot have white hair.” He groaned in protest. “Pietro, SHIELD and the higher-ups have done their best to keep you out of the spotlight, but that doesn’t change the fact that people can still recognize you. When people see you, they see a streak of blue and a shock of white hair.”

“I like the white hair!”

You sighed, he was impossible. “We’re not taking the risk of you being recognized. It’s bad enough that you’re keeping the accent.”

He frowned. “I like how my hair is, it means something to me; I got it when I got my speed. This white, it is both Pietro and Quicksilver. How am I supposed to be both without it?”

You reached up and ruffled the fading white locks. “On this mission, you’re not going to be Quicksilver or Pietro, you’re going to be a husband taking his adorable wife out on the fanciest date of her life.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Adorable?”

You smiled. “Hey, you said it yourself that you may have a thing for me. It’s not like I can blame you, I am pretty cute.”

“Oh, you are going to go there?”

“You do it all the time! Two can play that game!” He laughed. “Now, let’s get to work. Promise you’ll have lovely brown locks in,” you read the box, “30 or so minutes.” You walked back towards the small bathroom attached to your room. Pietro groaned as he reluctantly followed you.

“Sit here.” You motioned for him to sit on the closed toilet. “So I already put on clothes that I don’t mind getting stained,” you gestured to your ratty shirt and old shorts, “and I got a towel to put over you, but I don’t know if you want to maybe run and change shirts.”

“Or I could just take it off.”

“Or that.” You said while he quickly slipped his off and dropped it on the floor beside him. You felt your face flame up immediately and your brain couldn’t decide to stare or look away.

“You checking me out? It’s not like I can blame you, I am pretty cute.” He said, using your own words against you.

“Oh, shut up!” You said, thrusting the towel at him. He laughed and draped the towel over his shoulders like a cape. “Right, so now we gotta brush your hair to make sure the dye is even or something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I brushed it this morning.”

“Alright, next step.” Your eyes scanned down the instructional paper that had come with the box of hair dye. “Pour the contents of…” you read aloud to yourself. Next thing you knew, Pietro was holding a perfectly mixed bottle of dye.

“Next step.”

“I gotta put these gloves on and start painting your head with this.” You slipped the baggy, plastic-y gloves on and squirted a dollop of dye onto the small brush. “Ready?”

He took a deep breath. “Ready.”

You brushed Pietro’s hair with the dye, watching as the white was covered with the dark brown contents of the bottle. You did feel a tinge of guilt at being the one to take the white away, but you reminded yourself it had to be this way. Besides, it would have grown out brown eventually. Once Pietro’s hair was completely covered in brown dye you stepped back and admired your work.

“Now what?” He asked.

You tapped the screen of your phone, setting an alarm to go off when the appropriate time had passed. “Now we let it sit for half an hour and then we wash it out.”

“We? Will you be joining me as I wash this out in the shower?”

You could feel your body warm as it went into a blush. “Tempting, but no.” You peeled the stained gloves off and tossed them into the trash can.

“What are we supposed to do for the next half hour?”

“Just wait, I guess.” Not even a minute had passed before Pietro, being the impatient child he his, huffed and began to pace around the small space. “Okay, you’re driving me crazy! Sit down and we’ll do something.”

“Like what?” He asked, sitting down.

“I don’t know.” You searched your brain for safe subjects the two of you could talk about without making things awkward. “How about you show me what you’ve been learning in training?”

“Mostly it’s just casual, romantic things to sell the ‘newlywed’ charade. So it is pretty much just review.” A cocky grin spread across his face. “You’re sure to be amazed.” His smile fell into a timid crook. “Actually, could you put your outfit on? It will be more realistic that way.”

“More realistic? I’ll be dressed to the nines and you’ll be half-naked.” You shook your head. “I’m not putting the dress on; I don’t want you to get dye on it. I’ll put the shoes on if you want me too.” You left the bathroom and crossed to your closet. Making sure they weren’t the ones with the hidden gas-capsules, you grabbed a pair of heels from the small pile Natasha had given you.

You sat on the edge of your bed as you slipped the shoes on. Pietro took the towel off his shoulders and walked out to join you in the main part of your living quarters. “Natasha never wears high heels, or dresses, and I would like to know how it will actually be.”

“I get it. Besides, I need more practice with these anyway.” You stood up, thankfully managing not to wobble, and Pietro slid his arm around you. You felt your body warm as a result of both the heat radiating off him, and the full-body blush you were experiencing due to the intensely close proximity to your shirtless crush.

“So I hold you near me to show affection.”

“And I do the same.” You said, playing your part as a happy wife. You slid your arm behind him, pulling yourself closer. He smiled before leaning to whisper in your ear.

“I make everything we do seem personal and intimate.” His voice was low and soft. His lips barely brushed against your ear.

You pulled him close as he started to move away and whispered, “It’s always best to seem like what I just said was cute and hilarious.” He let out a soft chuckle and you tried to hide a giggle from the no one that was there. “What else you got?”

He moved away but still held your hand. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before placing the hand on his shoulder. You felt a tingle spread up your arm where his lips had touched. As he stepped closer you moved your other hand up to wrap around the back of his neck.

“When we are dancing,” he brushed the hair away from your face, “I can whisper things to you, or kiss your hair.” He planted a soft kiss on your hairline and you were beyond glad you washed it that morning.

“Just make sure you don’t get out of step.” you said in a low voice. “You were a little ahead of the beat last time.” 

He twirled you out to the imaginary rhythm. “Well, I will keep that in mind.”

“What now?” You asked.

He smiled. “We quickly kiss for goodbyes. Like if I go to get a drink, or you leave to talk to someone.”

“Oh, right.” You leaned in to give him a kiss. The feeling of his lips on yours made you wish you could have this for real, not just for the mission. You quickly broke away, pretending to be about to leave. You sashayed a few steps before turning to look at him.

You looked up at him and laughed. He was covered in various lines of brown dye crisscrossing his neck and torso. A shape that looked suspiciously like a handprint was plastered to the bottom his chest. He looked down at himself. “Oh no. I didn’t get any on your carpet did I?”

“No, I think it’s okay.” Just then a loud beep sounded from your back pocket. You went to reach for it before realizing that your hand was also covered in dye. “Better go wash that out, though.” You said, managing to silence the alarm.

“You know, maybe it’s best if I use my own shower.” He said, trying to wipe the brown splotches away.

“Yeah, maybe you should. Come show me when you’re done, though.”

Pietro sped off, shutting your door behind him. You looked around your room, double checking that there wasn’t drips of dye. Breathing a sigh of relief after not finding any, you went to wash your hands. Finding that soap wasn’t going to do the trick, you reached into your medicine cabinet for the bottle of rubbing alcohol. The clear liquid washed away the brown, even as the sharp scent burned your nostrils. Not ten minutes had passed before Pietro was back, fully dressed, with a head full of brown hair.

“It looks good!” You said, stepping out of the bathroom, still tottering in your heels. “I can’t believe I did this good of a job.” You dried your hands on your shorts, and went to ruffle his hair. “How is it dry already?”

“I ran over here.”

“Makes sense.” Pietro with brown hair was slightly off-putting. His face obviously still looked the same, just the aura he gave off was not as bright and stand-off-ish. “I like it, although I think I miss the white.”

“Tell me about it.” He pouted. “Also, none of this came off in the shower.” He said, gesturing to his neck.

“Come here, I’ll get it off.” You sat him on the edge of the bed before grabbing the half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few cotton balls. You set to wiping the back of his neck. The slightly-sweet scent of shampoo barely lingered under the bite of the alcohol. Once you had cleaned his neck and ears of dye you stepped back, handing him the bottle. “If there’s any left, you can do the rest. I can’t stand the smell.”

“Thanks for all of this. It is not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“The brown?”

“It is how it used to look. I will get used to it.”

“You know, we can always bleach it white again.” He perked up. “Maybe after the mission.”

“Okay, after the mission, we change it back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never dyed hair in my life, nor had mine dyed, so I had a LOT of help from friends and am sorry if some of it's not right. Honestly this is my least favorite chapter and rewrote it like, seven times and debated even posting it!


	7. Ready To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally mission time! Reader gets ready with the help of Natasha before meeting up with Pietro and acting like dorks.

The back of the chair dug into your back as Natasha cranked your head around, making sure your makeup was even. “Relax.” She said, letting go to grab a tube of lipstick. She twisted the bottom to reveal a dark red shade.

“Uhh, Nat, isn’t that a little dark?”

“You’re wearing black, it will be perfect.” She tilted your head back and you pursed your lips so she could apply the color. It was feather-light on your skin and you knew it had to be expensive. Not that you were complaining. Having Natasha help you get ready for the mission was a blessing. She had played a thousand roles and it was a relief to have someone else do your hair and makeup.

She turned the chair back around to face the mirror. “You’re done.” The looked into the mirror and did a double-take. The girl staring back at you was someone you barely recognized. Her hair, your hair, was gently curled to the side. Natasha had shaded your eyelids a smoky black and gold just like your gown. Your eyelashes seemed impossibly long and your eyes seemed to capture light like never before. The shiny, wine color on your lips pulled it all together to make you almost glow.

“Woah.” The girl in the mirror moved with you. “Nat, I don’t, wow, just, thank you. So much, thank you so much.”

She smiled, looking gorgeous even with her face bare. “No problem. I couldn’t let you out there all baby-faced. Besides, I know you would’ve freaked out for hours and made yourself late if I didn’t help you.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you dressed.” You stood up, glad to be able to put on more than just your underwear, jewelry, and weapon holsters. You slipped your gun, bullets, and knife into their respective places while Natasha took the dress out of its protective sleeve. She held up the top as you stepped into the gown. You slipped your arms through the gold straps and she zipped the back closed. As you stepped into your weaponized heels, you felt like a princess, a very deadly princess, on her way to the ball.

When you were finished you walked to the long mirror. You’d already seen yourself in the dress, already seen yourself in the shoes, but standing there you got shivers at the sight of yourself. “That’s me.” floated in your head.

“You should get going. Don’t want to be late.” Natasha said, tearing you away from the mirror.

“Right.” You turned and followed her out of the room and down towards the room you’d spent the last month training for this mission in. The two of you walked in to find an anxious Pietro bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers on the table where he sat.

He stood up upon hearing you enter and you were sure your expression mirrored his. His eyes were wide, and although his mouth didn’t actually fall open, you knew if he was feeling anything like you, it was because he was trying his best to keep it shut. Your eyes left his face and trailed down to the black suit that hugged all the right parts of his muscled frame. His silhouette was crisp and he really did look like a super-spy. His all-brown hair was still a bit of a shock despite having dyed it yourself.

“Damn.” The word was out of your mouth before you even thought about it. “I mean, well yeah, I mean, ‘damn, you look really nice.’”

A large smile bloomed on his face and he coyly brushed the hair out of his face. “I was going to say something more poetic than that, but ‘damn, you look really nice’ as well.” You could feel your face begin to warm and you hoped that it wouldn’t show through Natasha’s makeup.

“Alright lovebirds, let’s make this official.” Natasha called out. You turned to look and she held a small box towards you. “Rings. You’re a married couple remember?” She opened the box to reveal two matching gold rings. You picked up yours; the band was simple, centered with a large diamond nestled between two small ones.

“Wait.” Pietro snatched the ring from your grasp. “I think I am supposed to give you that.” He began to kneel down when Natasha cut him off.

“Ah ah, don’t wrinkle the pants.”

He shook his head and stood back up. “Y/N, will you take me to be your husband for the night?”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Only if you take me to be yours for the night.”

“I do.”

“I do too.”

Pietro slipped the ring onto your finger and you did the same to him. A stupid grin was plastered to your face as he pulled you close and looked expectantly at Natasha. “Say it, Romanoff.”

She shook her head. “You two are dorks.”

“Even if you will not say it, I will kiss her anyway.”

“Fine, her lipstick should last all night. Just make it quick, you don’t want to be late.”

He smiled at you before kissing you excitedly. “Ready to go, princessa?”

“Yeah,” you smiled wide, “let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with chapter five, if you don't like what you're wearing, you're free to picture something else. Title was low-key inspired by the Panic! at the Disco song.


End file.
